


User Friendly

by ArachneLovesMe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Degradation, Dub-con (Dean agrees but gets more than he expects), Face-Fucking, M/M, Multiple Partners, Prostitution (sort of), Underage (Dean is 15 or 16)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArachneLovesMe/pseuds/ArachneLovesMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loses money and in turn discovers a new skill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	User Friendly

_No_

_Fuck no please no._

Dean stares down at the hand that was supposed to have fed him and Sam for more than a fucking month and then he stares up at the man across the table from him with the lecherous grin. The other man’s four of a kind (3s, only damn threes) laughs back at Dean’s full house (Kings over 10s) and Dean doesn’t know what to do. He  _needed_  that money, and he had just lost it. He’d spent so long carefully building his pot up. He had gone all in because he couldn’t believe his luck. He should have known that Winchesters were never lucky.

That was  _Sam’s food_  he just lost.

John was going to kill him, probably literally if he had the chance.

Dean feels like crying in frustration at his own stupidity, but more than that he feels like pummeling the face of the guy across him for daring to beat him, to take his money away. It must show on his face because the guy laughs at him. “What’s wrong kid?” he spits the word and keeps on grinning. “Sore loser?” The words are slimy and goading Dean on.

Dean, for his part, clenches his fist compulsively at his sides, falling for it completely. He breathes hard through his nose, then does something he doesn’t do often. He asks for something.  “Please. There’s gotta be something, anything, I  _need_  that money.” The man just laughs harder and this time the other men at the table join in, their dark laughter and the edge to their grins makes Dean feel sick, though it could be the anxiety mixing with adrenaline in his blood.

“Anything?” the man repeats, and there is nothing innocent in the mocking hum of his tone. Dean swallows a hard lump and nods his head, having a good idea where this is going. He’s seen pornos. He’s heard what people say about him, what he looks like, about his ‘Pretty cocksucker’s lips.’

He’s not fucking deaf, and he’s not fucking stupid.

“Anything.” He repeats, much more firmly than he feels, the dread settling over him heavy. The man’s smile is filth incarnate. Dean almost tries to exorcise him but he doesn’t know the words and he  _does_  know you don’t have to be possessed to be a shit human.

He knows that really fucking well.

“Good, pretty boy, because me and John here have been eyein’ your pretty fuckin’ mouth since you walked in here.” Dean stands up as the man starts moving hands clenched defensively at his sides, even though he knows that’s not what he’s supposed to do now, not what he’s supposed to be. The man grips his chin hard and Dean grits his teeth to stop himself from spitting in his face. He _needed_  that money.  _Sam_ needed him to get it back. “So what you’re gonna do, is you’re gonna get on your knees and open that pretty cock sucking mouth for us.” The man tilted his head like he was examining him and Dean’s stomach turned again “If you’re a good whore and do as you’re told, you might get your money back. Got it?” Dean huffs another rebellious breath through his nose.

“Yes, sir.” He grits out, still glaring at him. The man chuckles a short mocking laugh as if to say ‘that’s what I thought’. He drops Dean’s chin roughly and shoves him out the door of the back room they were in and into the alley. Dean stumbles, more in surprise than from the force of the shove, and the three men from the table follow him out, one of them, John, already palming his jeans.

The grinning man who beat his final hand shoves him down into the dirt, a piece of broken glass biting into his knee as he falls on command. “Go on then, whore, take out your treat. You know what to do.” Dean actually didn’t. He’d fooled around with guys before but it had been mostly kissing and hand jobs, he’d never gotten the balls to actually suck a guy’s dick before. No time like the fucking present apparently.

 He reaches up to unbutton the man’s fly, and pull out his cock. It’s short but thick and he starts jerking it to hardness, figuring it would be easier that way, but he must have taken too long because he gets a sharp slap to the cheek and a grunted “We don’t have all night.” He quickens the pace of his wrist until the man’s more or less hard a few moments later and he steels himself as he wraps his lips around the head of the man’s cock and starts to suck. The man threads his fingers in his hair and starts lazily thrusting into Dean’s mouth. Dean chokes and tries to pull back but the hand on his head stops him and he spends a few seconds trying to learn how to breathe through his nose. The man tuts and thrusts one hard sharp stroke into the back of Dean’s throat that makes him gag before resuming the lazy shallow thrusting “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want your money, whore.” He goads, grinning down at the drool dripping from the corners of Dean’s mouth already. Dean pants a few panicked breaths through his nose before he gets a hang of it and starts to suck in earnest, just trying to get him to come, trying things on the man that girls have done to him in the past, wiggling his tongue like a dying fish trying to offer more sensation without any real finesse, sucking hard, shutting his eyes in concentration. That earns him another sharp slap and his eyes fly open. “Look at me whore” the man grunts, voice breathy and breaking, he’s close. Dean looks up at him desperately and sucks harder, pleading, silently _just come already._ It’s not much longer before he does, shooting a weak but thick dribble of come into Dean’s mouth. He doesn’t let go of Dean’s head until he swallows it all. It tastes like alcohol and shame and salty copper.

John’s next. He’s been practically jerking himself off through his jeans the entire time the first man was getting his turn so Dean expects him to be quick.

What he doesn’t expect is the way the man jerks his own cock out—longer but slightly thinner than the first man’s—grabs both sides of Dean’s head, and stuffs his cock down Dean’s throat without any warning at all. Dean can’t breathe with the sudden intrusion and he swallows compulsively around the obstacle, his throat convulsing and trying to get the thing out as Dean tries to dry heave.

He doesn’t have anything to puke up.

The man fucking laughs at him and starts thrusting savagely into his throat. Dean tries to open it up as best he can so it doesn’t fucking bruise or break or hurt something. He keeps reminding himself that this is for Sam, to make up for his mistakes. It lets him step away for a second, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow as the guy continues to use Dean’s mouth like a fuck toy. The rough thrusts push tears out of his eyes as he concentrates on just fucking breathing enough to get through it. He closes his mouth to suck, hoping that it’ll pull the man over faster, but it turns out he doesn’t need to. The guy lodges himself in his throat one last time and it feels like he’s trying to shoot directly into Dean’s stomach with how hard and how much he comes. Dean can feel the sick pulse of it in his mouth. At least he doesn’t have to taste it.

 When John finally pulls out Dean crumples forward as he gags and coughs and gasps for breath as they all laugh at him again.

“What’s wrong whore, don’t like playing rough?”

“Just now learning what you’re good for?”

The last man Dean doesn’t have a name for, he had played modestly at the table, winning only slightly more than he had come with and always on logical hands. His eyes freaked dean out. They were too-blue and they looked like they  _knew_ they were better than you. He was the last one. Dean could do this.

 Blue-eyes pulls Dean back up straight by his hair. “I’m not gonna coddle you, whore. I’m not going to feed you my cock like these other animals.” His voice is low and dark and it sounds like danger. “You’re going to take it out. You’re going to show me how much you appreciate the _privilege_  of sucking my cock and _maybe_  I’ll come for you so you can get your skin money.” He lets go with a shove. He’s barely got his breath back and his fingers shake as he undoes the man’s fly and pulls his cock out.  What’s left of the forced-out tears makes Dean’s eyes glitter as he looks up at him. The man is half hard already and it doesn’t take long for Dean to stroke him up to hardness again.

When he takes the man in his mouth he’s got a different goal in mind now that he has to be  _good_  instead of just being a hole to be used. He thinks about everything he’s ever liked from girls and starts trying to apply it, swirling his tongue around the tip of the man’s cock, making it catch below the rim and wiggle there. When he does start taking him down it’s in slow bobs that he controls for the first time that night, and his tongue wiggles along the bottom. It seems to be working because the condescending look on the man’s face has turned into a hand in his hair and a pleased smirk. “That’s it, whore.” There’s a groan in his voice that betrays how well Dean’s doing almost as easily the hot hard flesh in his mouth. Dean reaches one hand up to fondle the man’s balls and holds onto his hip with the other, careful only to touch his pants and not him. He decides he should probably try to deep throat this man too. Clearly the other two have proven that he’s capable.

With the control it’s eerily easy for Dean to swallow the man down and press his nose up against the man’s groin—he smells like sweat and musk and it almost makes Dean want to gag more than the cock in his throat. He swallows a couple times around the head as his throat twitches and convulses, and when he pulls off to breathe he laps the length of it in long broad stripes so he doesn’t get slapped again. “Come on, like you mean it” The man growls, pushing Dean’s head back onto his cock and Dean starts going faster, sucking hard, a frantic effort to pull him closer to the edge. Dean can feel the man’s balls start to tighten, hears his breath quicken above him, and he’s stopped holding back the short jerky thrusts as he starts to lose control. “That’s it, whore, look at you.  I bet you guzzle come for a fucking living don’t you? That’s why you agreed to suck our cocks so quickly. You  _know_  you belong on your knees.” His words are breathy and choppy as he lets Dean suck him to the edge and Dean closes his eyes and keeps trying his hardest to make him come, trying every trick he can think of. 

  
It seems like an eternity before the man pushes Dean’s head down onto his throat so that Dean gags around it as he comes. Again he swears he can feel it surge down his throat in a sick pulse. The man pulls out and zips himself back up, and Dean hangs his head in shame as his stomach twists. A couple of crumpled bills flutter to the filthy ground underneath him. “Well, It’s a start anyway. With some practice I’m sure you could actually be a good little whore one day instead of just a fuck hole.” Dean doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even move until they leave. When he’s sure they’re gone he forces his fingers into his throat and makes himself puke up the hot mess of their come—white filth and stomach acid—a Pollok painting of shame. Then he gathers the bills and smooths them out. When he counts it he just stares for a second There’s 80 dollars there. That’s four times as much as he came with. It’s not what he had planned on winning but it’s still 80 dollars.

For the first time in almost a week there’s going to be enough food for him  _and_ Sam. It’s too bad he doesn’t feel like eating at all.

He gets over it in a couple days because Sam just looks so damn happy when he’s full.

After that first exposure it gets easier every time.

Sam never goes hungry again. Not if Dean has any say in it


End file.
